


The Ambassador's Vices

by Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold (manka)



Series: All the Stars Lead Me to You: One-shots from the Issala Adaar/Josephine Monitiliyet Romance [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: BDSM, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Enthusiastic Consent, F/F, Gratuitous Smut, Hair-pulling, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Size Kink, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:48:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23384023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manka/pseuds/Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold
Summary: Josephine has listened to a bit too much of the Iron Bull's talk of playing. She demands her lover tie her up too with fantastic results.
Relationships: Female Adaar/Josephine Montilyet, Female Inquisitor/Josephine Montilyet
Series: All the Stars Lead Me to You: One-shots from the Issala Adaar/Josephine Monitiliyet Romance [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896808
Comments: 10
Kudos: 98





	The Ambassador's Vices

**Author's Note:**

> Errr. This is porn. That's it.

The firelight painted Issala’s skin in oranges and yellows, turned her form to gold instead of silver. Her horns cast shadows on the stone above them as she ran her own hand over glimpses of her own skin revealed by the barely there gown clinging to her form, the only thing holding it in place clever knots around her abdomen, revealing the smooth line of her stomach, more at her bare arms, her thighs, her waist… 

It revealed more than it hid and Josephine wanted to touch, to explore, with tongue and teeth, kisses and teasing fingers. But that was not the game. Not tonight. Tonight… tonight was not for the virtue of love. It was for vice. 

Josephine knelt on the bed, bare but for the crimson ropes against her own bronzed skin. The intricate knots pressed into her flesh, constricting it tightly, but nothing hurt. Nothing tingled. The ropes created a frame around her chest, circled and made her breasts stick out, their prominence highlighted even further by the ropes looping around her arms, arching her back and forcing them out. The ropes continued over her own abdomen, tied off at her thighs, binding her legs to her ankles with just enough room for her to shuffle slightly. 

“Are you sure about this, Josie?” Issala asked softly, tenderly stroking her staff roughened fingers over her cheek. Josephine nuzzled into Issala’s palm, careful of the glowing anchor, smiling shyly. 

She was ready. She was aching. Josephine, after all, had asked for this. She should not have been listening to Bull’s vivid descriptions of his conquests. But once she had… she couldn’t stop thinking of it. “Yes, my love.” 

“And our word is..?” Issala prodded. 

“Brandy.” She supplied immediately. 

“You’ll say it?” Issala asked. Almost as if she were as nervous as Josephine was.

“Of course I will, I am not a…” 

Before she could get the complaint out, Issala’s hand slipped up to her thick dark hair, fisting in it and tugging Josephine’s head back, revealing more of that long swan’s neck her mother always told her should emphasize. Issala bent down, the cool silk gliding over Josephine’s overheated skin. She pressed hot, delirious kisses up to Josephine’s ear before nipping it. “Shush, love. I’m going to play with you tonight.” 

The tone had changed, and it sent a shiver through Josephine’s bound form. Issala hadn’t touched her since she finished the ropes, and in the time since she had been sitting, bereft, waiting her nerves had come alive. They sang when Issala’s fingers played over her skin her and she arched as much as she could into the touch. 

“You look so good like this, Josie…” Issala purred mischievously. “Maybe we should have a portrait painted.” 

She meant to protest, she did, but Issala’s words sent a shock of white heat right through her. She whimpered instead, an agonizing sound of need and want as Issala’s hands glided over her form, feather soft, not nearly enough. 

Careful of her horns, Issala sank down to the heavy globes of Josephine’s breasts. Looking up, playful and smooth, she let her tongue flick one achingly hard nipple. Josephine’s breath caught, watching as Issala’s pink tongue teased the point until it sat stiff and proud. Then she moved to the other one, letting her hands sink into the pillowy flesh of Josephine’s thighs. She tried to buck under her steely grip, feeling her arousal building to a fever pitch as Issala teased. 

She was so lost, riding the sensation, that when the sharp pain came she cried out and rocked backward in shock, her choked cry becoming tiny whimpers as the jeweled clamp bobbed in time with her breathing. Issala lightly, soothingly, stroked her hand up and down Josephine’s abdomen, watching as she rode the pain. 

Watching as it stoked her pleasure.

“Are you alright?” She asked quietly. 

“I am not a doll!” Josephine protested, arching forward, watching as the garnets on the clamp gleamed like a drop of blood. The delicate flesh trapped between them throbbed, throbbed in a way Josephine could feel the whole way in her core. 

“Yes you are.” Issala nuzzled into the skin of Josephine’s neck, her other hand coming up with the second clamp. This one she teased in small, concentric circles around Josephine’s nipple. The cold metal teasing soft skin, the promise of pain and more of that dark, sensuous pleasure. “You’re my doll, Josie. Only mine.” 

“Issala…” She pleaded.

“Say it.” Issala commanded, running the clamp over her nipple. “Tell me you’re my doll. Tell me you’re my plaything.” 

The words were filthy, lewd, beneath her breeding. And yet, when Issala tweaked the clamp already hanging off her nipple, sending fresh spikes of pain and arousal, Josephine couldn’t help herself. 

“Yes.” She cried sweetly. “Yes, I am your doll, I am yours to play with, Issala please..” 

She was rewarded with another bright burst of pain that made her keen in approval. Her hips jerked, looking for friction, meeting it as Issala’s fingers circled her swollen clit. 

“You’re wet, Josie.” Issala’s voice carried a hint of laughter. “You like this, don’t you?” 

“More.” She begged, desperate. She needed more of Issala’s touch, more of her quiet, gentle teasing, more of the bright pain and the burning in her loins. 

“More?” Issala asked softly, plucking Josephine’s clit with unfairly steady hands and tilting her head to the side to watch as Josephine strained not to ride her hand with wild abandon as she teased her to the edge. “More of what, Josie?” 

She could feel the flush creeping over her face, her neck, down to the bouncing tits as she gave in and started bucking against Issala’s teasing fingers. “Please. Please I need to cum Issala, I need…” 

Just like that, the fingers were gone and a harsh smack echoed in the room. The sound was louder than the impact, but still Josephine could feel the skin of her thigh smarting from Issala’s hand. She raised the fingers that had been teasing her and wiped Josephine’s juices over her swollen lips, her cheek, smiling. “What you need doesn’t matter, Josie.” 

What she needed didn’t matter. What she wanted didn’t matter. Josephine felt the mantle of submission settle over her as she fought the urge to lick her own arousal from her lips. “Yes, Issala. Please, please play with me however you wish.” 

And just like that, Issala’s mouth descended to claim hers, a kiss that bruised and burned. One of Issala’s hands tangled in the long, thick hair at the nape of her neck and wrenched her head back again. Then, just as quickly, Issala was gone. She tutted softly as she stood, wondering away from Josephine, leaving her alone with the wetness between her legs, her aching nipples, her frustrated need. 

But Issala was back in a moment, holding a polished, curved piece of stone in her hand. It was thick, far thicker than the one they usually played with, curved and wickedly long. Josephine trembled, both wary and unbearably excited as Issala placed it at her mouth. 

“I thought about inviting Bull, since he gave you this wicked idea.” Issala murmured, watching as Josephine’s pink tongue darted out to lick the cool stone. “But I didn’t want to share my playthings. So this will have to be the next best thing.” 

The thought, the sinful thought of Issala holding her down while the Iron Bull fucked her… it was too much to comprehend, too hot, too awful, too…

Issala flipped her easily, with a warrior’s lethal grace, onto her stomach. The clamps dragged against the sheets and Josephine cried out at the new wave of sweet, blissful agony. A light smack on her exposed ass set her nerves blazing. “Get up on your knees, Josie.” 

She struggled, awkward and hobbled by the ropes, the hands tied behind her back, but she managed it eventually, trembling and huffing as her hair fell around her face. She waited, breathlessly, as Issala admired her form. 

And then the touch of the stone cock at her pussy lips… Josephine keened in desperate need, trying to push towards it. Issala laughed. “Eager? You may not be once we get started. I can’t wait to see you stretched out around it.” 

But she wanted it. She needed it. “Please…” She begged again. 

Another smack, harder this time, on her upturned ass. It stung even as Issala gently kneaded the flesh. Josephine let out a strangled half sob, half moan. “Shhh… I know what you need Josie.” 

And just like that, she was pushing the toy in. At first, it was easy, but then it began to stretch. Josie whimpered, pulling away, and Issala pulled back momentarily before shoving forward again. “You can take this, love. You can take this for me, can’t you?” 

She could. For Issala, she could. Josephine tried to relax as she worked it in inch by torturous inch. Josephine could hear her own breath panting, sweat slicking her skin, before finally she felt the press of Issala’s fingers against her slick center. Then, just as achingly slowly, Issala began to slide the toy from her. 

Josephine only had just enough time to mourn it’s loss before Issala thrust it in again, hard, sending Josephine rocking on her bent knees. Josephine’s moans echoed in the chamber as Issala fucked her, roughly, thoroughly. The clamps on her nipples bounced, sending flickering bolts of pleasure like Issala’s lightning. 

Then one of Issala’s hands was in her hair again, pulling her back to whisper in her ear, voice deliciously husky. “Is this what you wanted, Josephine? What would the nobility say if they knew all about your secret vices?” 

These were nothing. Most of them did ten times worse, but sweet Issala, new to the game, did not know that. Still, the words hit her right in her cresting pleasure and she only had one word to say. “More.” 

Issala’s hand dropped from her hair, then fell to deftly pull the clamps free of Josephine’s shaking tits. She cried out as the blood returned, near sobbing at the feeling as all the sensation began to build, began to blur. She could not tell where she ended and the silk sheets, the stone cock, Issala’s fingers slipping between her folds, began. She was endless, she was balanced on the knife’s edge of too much and just enough. 

Issala didn’t slow her brutal thrusting, and Josephine knew she would be sore, but she pushed back into it as Issala’s nimble fingers began to dance between her legs, playing her like a piano, her muscles trembling and tightening, her moans becoming incoherent pleas to stop, to never stop, for more, for more and more and…

When she shattered, it was like falling off the battlements. Everything rushed up to meet her and exploded into pleasure, her release spilling over the cock, Issala’s fingers, the good silk sheets Josephine insisted on. Issala’s thrusts slowed as she gently fucked Josephine through it, the ripples that caused her to twitch and moan. Issala pressed a gentle kiss to the back of Josephine’s neck and pressed a reassuring palm over her abdomen. 

Josephine felt safe. She felt loved. She felt _exhausted._

“Are you alright, love?” Issala whispered, slowly removing the toy and tossing it on the bed. 

“If you think we are finished for the evening, I will most certainly not be alright.” Josephine muttered reprovingly. Issala giggled into her shoulder, the sound as bright as a bell.

“Oh no.” She promised. “We’re not through yet.” 

**Author's Note:**

> More about these two at: [cartadwarfwithaheartofgold.tumblr.com](https://cartadwarfwithaheartofgold.tumblr.com/) I take requests!


End file.
